


Old Masters

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [71]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why we hang onto the things we do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Masters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wickedfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedfox/gifts).



> Originally published June 13, 2005
> 
> A very happy birthday to the fabulous and talented [](http://wickedfox.livejournal.com/profile)[**wickedfox**](http://wickedfox.livejournal.com/). This piece was inspired by her recent delicious depiction of a young Rupert Giles at ease in the all-together seen [here](http://www.livejournal.com/users/wickedfox/66680.html). It is also a companion piece to [](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/profile)[**sadbhyl**](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/)'s [Avante Garde](http://archiveofourown.org/works/757096). Oh right, you probably want to know when this takes place, right? Set in the Menageaverse somewhere early S7.

Ethan awoke from his doze to find Rupert standing over him, a mixture of emotions playing across his face.

“Where did you get this?”

It took a moment for Ethan to figure out what his friend was talking about. In Rupert’s left hand was an old, beat-up copy of Conceptual Theories of Quantum Mechanics, available in much better condition at any major bookseller these days. In his right, an aged but barely faded sketch that most definitely was not available at any major bookseller, or nor even art dealer, for that matter.

“So that’s where I put it,” Ethan said casually, still uncertain as to what Rupert’s reaction was. He didn’t seem angry, but he didn’t seem pleased either.

Ethan wasn’t certain how he felt himself about Rupert finding the sketch.

“I lost this,” Rupert said, the tone a mixture of sadness and accusation.

“No, you didn’t lose it, Ripper,” Ethan gave a short bitter laugh as he sat up, the bed sheet puddling in his lap. “You left it behind with a number of other things that you deemed too memorable of those years in London.”

His friend shook his head. “I wouldn’t have left this behind,” he denied.

Ethan frowned. “The only reason you wanted it in the first place is because it was the one and only time I was ever able to sketch you like that. It was the only time I was ever able to capture you, Rupert, as you truly were, without Ripper casting a shadow.”

His words seemed to have little effect on Rupert. “I swear I took this with me.”

“I’m telling you that you didn’t. It was there on the floor of your apartment with the other trash. The only things you took with you were your precious books. Everything else you left.” Ethan knew he shouldn’t be as upset as he was. They’d moved past all of that. And yet it still hurt to remember the day he’d gone to Ripper’s dismal flat and found the place still full of his lover’s things, as if he would return at any moment. But he wouldn’t, as the empty bookshelf and time would attest.

Rupert sat on the edge of the bed seemingly transfixed by the sketch. “I meant to take this with me,” he argued. “I always kept it between pages three-twenty-two and three-twenty-three of Atterbryn’s Illusions.”

“Well, it fell out in your rush to leave,” Ethan spat. “What does it matter? I had it, you didn’t. And if you’d be so kind, I’d like it back.” He held out his hand.

Rupert looked at him sidelong, then back down at the sketch. “This was what, four months or so after we’d met?” he asked curiously.

“Give me the damn picture, Rupert,” Ethan said shortly, frustration taking over. It would have been better if the bloody thing had stayed hidden. And what was Rupert doing poking around Ethan’s collection of physics books in the first place? They were the only books safe from Rupert’s inquiring mind.

Rupert was staring at him.

“What?” he growled.

“You loved me even then, didn’t you?” Rupert asked quietly, a hint of wonder in his query.

The world went away in an instant. Sight, sound, feeling replaced by nothing. And then it all came flooding back, making everything sharper, brighter, louder.

“I want the picture back, now,” Ethan demanded, ignoring Rupert’s words. Not wanting to acknowledge them.

“Ethan.” The stern voice and deadly flash of Ripper in Rupert’s watching eyes let Ethan know there would be no dodging of this subject.

Finally, he answered in resignation, “We didn’t do love, Rupert, remember? We still don’t.”

“It’s easier to believe that, isn’t it?”

“Christ.” Ethan flung back the sheet and jumped out of the bed. He couldn’t just sit there; he needed to be moving. Because sitting there and attempting to calmly discuss this was unthinkable. It made him too vulnerable. He hated being vulnerable. Especially around Rupert.

Rupert who was now standing solidly in Ethan’s path, blocking his retreat.

“We’ve been through this before, Rupert. No need to rehash it again. Now get out of my way,” he barked, willing to knock the other man down if need be.

“It’s a simple question, Ethan.” Rupert didn’t even bat an eyelash, his voice remaining smooth and controlled.

“Keep the damn sketch, then. Just stop pushing me.”

“Did you or did you not?”

Ethan pressed his lips into a fine line, refusing to answer. No good would come of it. And he wasn’t about to give Rupert the satisfaction of answering. Twenty-odd years had passed, and they’d moved well beyond that time. Ethan had thought this had been laid to rest. He should have known better. Something always rose up to remind them, remind him. The sketch should have been ash long ago. Or left forgotten on the floor of Ripper’s flat.

“Ethan, I’m not moving until you give me an answer.” Rupert’s implacable demand brought Ethan back to the present.

“I don’t have an answer to give, so it seems we’re at an impasse,” Ethan smirked.

“Would it help to know that that was why I never intended to leave it behind?”

“What, thinking that I loved you? I would think that would have made you want to destroy it more than anything else.”

When Rupert spoke, the words came slowly, as if he were trying say things just so. “I wanted it because it meant something. Out of all the pointless, irresponsible shit we did together, it was the one piece of proof that it hadn’t been for nothing. That there had been something.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “If I took nothing else with me, I wanted that sketch because it reminded me that it hadn’t all been bad. That there were moments, a lot of moments, that made that time in my life not a horrible mistake.”

Ethan sat back down on the bed, realizing there was no real point in running anymore. Maybe this would be the final hurdle they had to face. He doubted it, but it was a nice thought.

Ethan looked up at Rupert then, studying the man closely while he chose his words with care. He was so changed and yet so very much the same. It was surprising to realize just how much of the man now he had seen in their youth.

At last Ethan spoke. “I never had any delusions. Knew it’d all end someday, some way. But if you want the truth, Rupert, the answer you’re so hell bent on getting from me, no, I didn’t love you then.” Ethan paused for a moment, bitterly savoring the brief flash of pain in Rupert’s eyes. “It started long before that. Probably not long after I picked you up that first night.”

After what seemed to be a short eternity, Rupert sat beside him on the bed, the terrycloth of his green robe doing little to hide the contours of his frame. Ethan’s body responded as it always did when Rupert was near, deep-seated want kindling to simmering need, only needing a word or a glance or a flash of skin to burst into full-fledged arousal. For a brief moment he almost regretted his propensity for nudity; there wasn’t even the sheet to hide behind anymore.

“I think I always knew that,” Rupert admitted, his voice reflective. “It’s why I was able to do all the things I did to you. A part of me knew that no matter what I did, you weren’t going anywhere.”

“I would have never left you,” Ethan said honestly. Not much point in hiding anything anymore.

Rupert nodded. “Which is why I had to leave you.”

“Yeah, I know that,” he agreed. “Now.”

They were quiet for some time, just sitting there.

Reaching behind himself, Rupert picked up the drawing again. “You always had a good eye,” he commented. “Revealed more of your subjects than the casual observer would see.”

“I just draw what’s before me,” Ethan said simply as he studied the careful lines and shadows connecting and blending together to display what had once been the man next to him in a rare moment.

“Why do you never draw me by myself anymore?”

Ethan regarded his friend. “What do you mean?”

“At least the sketches I’ve seen, I’m always with Joyce. Occasionally one of the children. But never alone,” he said thoughtfully. Then added, his tone calculated, “You draw Joyce by herself.”

“Jealous?” Ethan said lightly.

Rupert shifted so he was facing Ethan, one leg propped up on the bed, the robe falling open to reveal glimpse of his upper thigh, paleness running into promising shadow. He wanted to flip the robe back more, further revealing his lover to his eyes.

“You’re afraid.” Rupert’s comment startled Ethan from his reverie.

“Hardly,” he scoffed.

“Then why won’t you draw me alone?”

“Because you’re not alone anymore. You’re best displayed next to those you care about.”

An odd look crossed Rupert’s face, but he shook it off. “Draw me now,” he said.

“I don’t take requests.”

“It’s not a request.”

“Well, I don’t draw on demand either.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I know you will. But I’m still not doing it,” Ethan refused. It would be posed and unnatural. When Ethan sketched it was from the odd, candid moments of life, usually when his subject was unaware.

“Think of it as a commission.” There was a hint of Ripper in the grin. “I pay now, you deliver later.”

“I could take your payment and run, you know.”

“You won’t,” Rupert said knowingly. “You’ll find your moment.”

“You’re so certain.”

Rupert nodded once, and in the next instant was pressing Ethan down onto the bed, straddling over him, trapping him there. “What’s your price, Ethan?”

Even now these moments were all too rare, Rupert offering himself freely to Ethan’s desire.

“There’s inflation to be taken into account,” Ethan said in a business-like tone. “And my skills have only gotten better with time. You have a professional where you once had a rank-amateur.”

“In nothing have you ever been a rank-amateur, Ethan.” Rupert’s smile was genuine and warm.

Ethan hid how deeply Rupert’s words touched him by continued light banter. “Flattery will help your case.”

“So what’ll it be, Ethan?” The only contact came from Rupert’s lips dancing over his own. “Anything you want.”

Twenty-some years disappeared in that moment and they were back in Ethan’s dingy sublet. “Give us a blow, then.”

Rupert chuckled as his lips pressed more firmly against Ethan’s, asking permission for entry before pressing in, tongue massaging lightly over Ethan’s own in an unhurried exploration. When he pulled back, Ripper looked own at Ethan. “So much for inflation.”

“Well, you’re skills have improved slightly with time, so it’s a fair enough exchange,” Ethan replied.

“A blow it is, then,” Rupert agreed with an undisguised smirk as he rose to shed his robe finally.

Gods, but he was still gorgeous. The boy he had been was long gone, lost in the years, but the strength and power was still there, more carefully hidden and all the more attractive in the concealment.

All thought of observation fled with the gentle press of Rupert’s lips against his chest. Rupert took his time, seeming to wander without intent as he sought out one nipple and then the other, mapping out random patterns as he descended. Ethan’s skin felt electric with the contact and, for what may have been the first time, he didn’t feel the panic that came when Rupert did things more gently. It brought Ethan a sense of peace to realize this, to not worry that there might not be a next time. Things had changed. And it had only taken him three years to finally accept that fact.

Rupert may have been taking his time as he worked his way down, but when he finally reached Ethan’s cock there was no hesitation. He was there one moment, breath just stirring along Ethan’s shaft and then he was taking Ethan in, mouth wrapping firm and hot as he slid down. It was exquisite.

Years ago, Ripper would have dragged this out in a long, sensuous torture, punishing Ethan as much as he rewarded. Rupert still did that. But not today. There was no torture in this act, just the giving of pleasure. More selfless in intent than Ethan was used to. Ripper gave, expecting repayment and then some. But Rupert was giving this freely, in exchange for a drawing, yes, but Ethan didn’t feel like he had to deliver. Repayment wasn’t demanded.

On the upstroke, Rupert’s tongue came into play, adding another layer of sensation. Ethan relaxed as Rupert’s ministrations intensified and one of his hands joined in, massaging Ethan’s balls dexterously between his fingers. His lover knew exactly what Ethan liked, applying the right amount of pressure here and easing off there. A hint of teeth quickly soothed by the purposeful caress of a tongue that seemed to know every vein and ridge to touch.

Ethan’s fingers threaded through his lover’s hair as climax neared.

While Rupert was far more giving than he had been in his youth, a blow from him was still something to be savored. It occurred to Ethan that Rupert was more willing to let Ethan fuck him than he was go down on Ethan. It was as if the former were an easier thing for the man to concede than the latter, even though he really had more control then. One of these days he’d have to ask Rupert about that, but right now there were more pressing matters.

“Christ, Rupert, so close. Just a bit harder. A little more,” he rambled, coherency fleeing as he felt himself slip a little closer to release.

When Rupert’s fingers pressed with knowing intent against the smooth bit of skin just behind his sac, hitting his perineum just right, Ethan went over with a strangled cry of his lover’s name.

Ethan came back to himself slowly, contentment washing over him as Rupert brought him down. Finally, Rupert drew away, crawling up to lay next to Ethan.

Rolling onto his side, Ethan looked at his lover. “Now you’re going to expect some masterpiece I suppose.”

Rupert rolled his eyes. “You always have to ruin the moment, don’t you?”

“Quiet doesn’t suit us, Rupert.”

“No, it really doesn’t,” Rupert agreed. After a moment, “May I have it back?”

“The sketch?” Ethan frowned and sat up, seeking out the troublesome drawing and finding it at the foot of the bed. Picking it up, he looked it over again, then handed it back to Rupert. “It’s rightfully yours, isn’t it? Take better care of it this time.”

“Thank you, Ethan.”

Ethan shrugged it off. There was no need to make a big deal out of it anymore. “You’re welcome, Rupert,” he said, finally.

“I wonder if this is worth anything.”

Turning around, Ethan fixed his friend with inquiring glare.

“Joyce might know,” Rupert continued.

“Even I don’t think that highly of myself, Rupert,” Ethan smirked. “There’s nothing but sentimental value.”

He laughed. “Never thought I’d hear that word come out of your mouth in anything but a derisive tone.”

“It’s really not worth the paper it’s drawn on,” Ethan pointed out.

“The subject is rather striking. That’s worth something.”

“And you say I’m narcissistic!” Ethan snorted.

Rupert reached out and pulled Ethan down by him again. “I think I’m entitled,” he said roughly, as he captured Ethan’s mouth in a quick kiss. When he pulled back, he was serious again. “I meant it, though, Ethan. Thank you for this. I never wanted to get rid of this, I hope you understand that.”

Cupping the side of Rupert’s face in a brief flare of tenderness, he said, “I do now, Ripper. I do now.”  



End file.
